Hopeful Dreams of Hopeless Men
by that-one-fanfiction-account
Summary: The Winchesters failed not to close to the gates of Hell, the angels have fallen, and many questions are left unanswered. They run into a colorful girl named Erin Harlan, a hunter, who sets out to help the brothers, the prophet, and their fallen angel to find answers and fix what they screwed up, with plenty of drama, romance, betrayal, and loss along the way.
1. Chapter 1

The angels, they're falling. This simple, incomplete statement still rang in Dean's ears as he sped down the road to the bunker. The words were uttered from his mouth in shock and awe, and almost seemed like a question, because how could something like this possibly be happening? Cas was simply trying to close off heaven, so how did the plan seem to work in reverse? Instead of heaven locking the angels in, it had seemed to spit them out and lock the door behind them. Dozens of questions whirled through his mind, so he didn't notice the awful wheezing noise the Impala made in protest as he continued to push the speedometer off the marked numbers. The Impala was a solid car, but could only do so much.

Despite the hissing engine, Dean's main focus was on Sam in the backseat, who was coughing up blood violently. The trials had taken their toll on the man, not really kicking in till the angels stopped falling, and Dean feared that he was losing his brother. Sam's face was pale, with bloodshot eyes and purple bruises underneath. Slick, sheen sweat dripped down, and his hair was soaked, sticking to his face. He was curled in the fetal position, desperately trying not to cough up his lungs. He gasped and choked on spit and blood, but refused to go to the hospital, because, honestly, what could they do? Dean couldn't just burst through the doors with his brother, because they simply didn't know if it could be fixed. They were dealing with some godly power, and clearly, the human body wasn't designed to withstand that. Frankly a dick move on God's part, in Dean's opinion, but he had already filed God under his long list of douchebags.

Dean's eyes shifted from the black asphalt and the backseat quickly, and when they finally reached the door of the bunker, Dean didn't even bother to take the keys out of the Impala. He jumped quickly out of the car and swung open the backdoor. He dragged Sam out and attempted to lift him, but he struggled to bear the weight of his brother. He had no other choice than to make Sam walk, while he supported him. Dean's eyes shot up when he heard a door slam, hand reaching for his gun on instinct. His eyes finally adjusted in the dark to see Kevin running towards them in a state of panic.

"What the hell happened?" Kevin squawked, eyes wide.

"Sammy's hurt. Get Crowley. He's in the trunk," he grunted, jerking his head towards the trunk with the yelling Crowley inside.

"Are you kidding?" Kevin choked out.

"He's in those special chains from the dungeon. You'll be fine," he yelled, throwing open the door to bunker and shoving his key back into his pocket. He nearly dragged Sam to one of the beds. He stepped back and looked at his brother. He looked like he'd been through Hell, and Dean would certainly know what that looked like. He heard Kevin and Crowley, well mostly Crowley heading towards the dungeon.

"You can't do this to me you moron!" Crowley whined, but his cries were muffled when the dungeon door shut. Dean knelt by the bed, unsure of what to do with his brother. He grabbed his brother's clammy, hot hand in his a held it tightly. What had they done?

"Sammy, you're going to make it through this. I promise," Dean coughed out, tears welling in his eyes. Sam looked at him with wide eyes, that looked like a lost child. Dean saw little Sammy in those big, terrified eyes. Everything they had been through and how it had affected Sammy, shown in those eyes. Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently, sending the few things of Sam's crashing to the ground. Dean shot up, still grasping Sam's hand. There was a high pitched ringing in both of their ears, and an brilliant flash of light that filled the entire room. Dean shut his eyes tightly, before everything went entirely black.

Dean woke to find himself staring at the ceiling. He sat up, rubbing his head where a definite bump had formed. Sam was sprawled out on the bed, breathing shallowly. Dean reached over and shook Sam violently, and his eyes shot open, still bloodshot, but there was some color in his face again.

"You ok?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Sorta," Sam coughed.

"Sorta? You were almost dead last night Sammy," Dean looked at him wide-eyed.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I still feel like crap, but I don't feel like I'm gonna die or anything," Sam sat up and shrugged.

"Well what am I supposed to do then?"

"I'm kinda hungry," Sam began to stand up, but Dean pushed him back on the bed.

"No. No way you're walking around after last night. I'll bring you something. Just sit there," Dean huffed and walked out.

What the hell had happened? All he remembers was a bright light and high-pitched whining noise and then it all went fuzzy. Certainly wasn't an angel. Half of them were dead, injured, or just hopelessly confused as a human. Those options applied to all of the fallen angels, even Cas. Where the hell was Cas? Was he even alive? Dean gulped at that thought. Cas could've been anyone of those falling flames. Cas couldn't be dead. He almost lost Sammy. He wasn't willing to lose Cas, too, but he could only hope so much.

He threw some makeshift sandwich together and shuffled back to Sam's room. He stopped at the door in awe as nearly all the color had returned back to Sam's face. Did he actually look healthy? That was impossible. Okay, maybe it wasn't. They had dealt with crazier crap before. He walked towards Sam, who smiled at him. What the hell was that? Sam never smiled. Dean shook it off and shoved the plate towards Sam.

"Thanks, man," he nodded and took a bite of the sandwich. Dean just stared at him. Sam turned towards him with raised eyebrows, "Can I help you?"

"Who the hell are you?" Dean shook his head.

"Uh, Sam Winchester, nice to meet you. Your brother."

"No, what happened? We both black out last night after a violent earthquake, a loud noise, and a bright light, and you're all of a sudden perfectly fine? Something isn't sitting right."

"Can you not just enjoy it for a second? I mean, I'm not dead, so that's good right? You don't have to question everything, Dean."

"Of course I have to question it Sammy. It's my damn job," Dean's voice grew defensive.

"Can't you just let this one slide?"

"Sam," Dean shot up, voice harsh, "You just almost closed the gates of Hell, angels just fell from the freaking sky, and now you're magically healthy again? I'm sorry, but that doesn't seem to fit in."

"What? Something good?" Sam stood up as well, getting in Dean's face.

"Good things don't just happen to us Sam. We're nothing but bad luck!" Dean swallowed hard.

"That's not true," Sam sat down in a huff.

"Sam, everyone we care about gets hurt or dies. Every creature out there wants our head on a platter. Excuse me, but I'm not seeing much good in our screwed up lives," Dean threw himself on the bed like a five year old.

"We've had good things, too, Dean," Sam scooted closer to Dean.

"Give me five good things that happened that didn't go to Hell afterwards."

"Well, there was, that on Cassie chick."

"She nearly got killed but a killer truck Sam."

"What about Lisa and Ben?"

"I almost lost them. Hell, they don't even know who I am after Cas wiped their memories," a slight twinge of pain showed on Dean's face.

"Bobby."

"He literally went to Hell, Sam, and you almost died in Purgatory when you went to get him out."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, "What about Amelia?"

"That was you, not me Sam, plus wasn't her dad a total dick?"

"He wasn't that bad, Dean," Sam's voice was defensive at Dean's comment.

"I'm waiting on your fifth misguided reason," Dean sat up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"What about Cas?" Sam looked up innocently.

"He's probably dead, Sam," the words felt hollow as Dean said them. He stood up abruptly, not wanting to discussing his crappy life anymore. There were more important things to worry about, like how Sam was magically better, or how many angels wanted to skin him alive. He rushed towards the door, but he heard Sam quietly call out, "I know you believe he's out there Dean."

Dean turned back to look at Sam, hostile. "He's probably dead somewhere in the woods. He doesn't know what they hell to do without his angel mojo and he probably just laid down and died somewhere."

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked curiously.

"He's had a track record of self-loathing."

"Sounds like someone else I know, but you never just gave up."

"Well, Cas is different Sam," he spat out.

"I doubt that."

"You don't know him like I do. He's told me things."

"What the hell are talking about?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

Dean sunk into the door frame, defeat washing over his body. He wasn't sure if he should tell Sam any of this. It was a personal moment when Cas had really opened up to him, but Sam probably could be trusted. He had just almost died. Dean sighed deeply and half-whispered, "Cas told me, that, well, all of the damage that he caused in heaven, it wasn't something he ever wanted to see, so he shut himself off from everything."

"And?"

Dean took a sharp breath, "He said that if he returned to heaven to see the aftermath of what he did, that he might, well kill himself," Dean hung his head.

"What did you tell him?" Sam's voice was now laced with worry.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sam repeated in shock.

"I didn't know what to say. I had no idea how to respond to that. It's not often you have to help an angel with suicide prevention."

"Still, it's Cas."

"You don't think I feel bad about it?" Dean snapped, "I figure because I didn't do anything then, he probably just offed himself somewhere."

"Cas is stronger now,"Sam whispered, unsure what to say.

"Was. He was stronger. Now he's either dead or helpless as a human. The guy basically lost everything he was. I would probably have done the same thing."

"Dean! Shut up! That's never an option!" Sam stood up and grabbed Dean by the shoulders. Dean just shrugged him off.

"And why the hell not Sammy? Don't you ever just want to get away from it all. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know I wouldn't go anywhere great, considering Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory all just suck ass, but," Dean stepped back.

"What happened to never leaving each other Dean? Killing yourself isn't going to solve anything," Sam took Dean by the shoulders again.

"I cause you more trouble by being around at this point."

"Where the hell is the strong, older brother I knew? This isn't him," Sam shook Dean.

"Maybe he's gone Sammy!" Dean pushed Sam away, "Maybe I'm just a broken shell of a man now. There's no angel healing crap or family counseling that's going to put me back together," his eyes started to water, "I'm hanging on by a damn thread Sammy. If I had lost you last night, who knows if I'd still be here. Cas, is gone, and I'm just going to assume he's dead."

"Dean," Sam sighed, "don't you ever leave me like that."

"I'm not going to Sam. It was a thought. Calm down. Great pep talk."

"Cas is gonna come back, and I'm here. We have Crowley's ass chained down in the basement. We're doing better than we usually do."

"Stop saying Cas will come back," Dean scoffed.

"He will," Sam's voice rose.

"Why?" Dean snapped bitterly.

"Because we're family. We all need him. You need him, and he needs you too," Sam took Dean into a hug. Dean just wrapped his arms around his baby brother, and tried to see the bright side, but how could he? All the light and hope fell out of the sky with those damn angels.

After a few moments the brothers separated from their hug with a few, quick pats on the back. Dean now looked worse than Sam, with dark bags under his eyes. His clothes were torn in odd places, and he was limp from exhaustion.

"You should probably get some sleep, Dean," Sam muttered as he picked up his sandwich again.

"Sleep isn't really one of my priorities," Dean mumbled as he walked out of Sam's room. He walked back into the kitchen and just stood there, lost in thought. If Cas was still alive, then Dean felt it was his responsibility to find him. He had helped get into this mess, so he might as well help him get out of it. How he was going to do that was still a mystery.

Dean finally grabbed a beer and walked into the library. Maybe he could find something that could help him find Cas. Most of the books looked like a bunch of nothing at the moment. Maybe there was something on the stupid angel tablet. He would have to make Kevin translate more of it. Where was Kevin anyway? As he wandering in the general direction of Kevin's room he heard a loud bang. His beer dropped from his hand and was replaced with his gun. The sound had definitely came from the dungeon. His casual walk had shifted to his standard hunter's prowl. He moved swiftly along the wall towards Crowley's confinement. Dean flinched and flipped around, gun aimed with his hand on the trigger, only to be met by the equally cautious Sam. They continued to the door, kicking it open swiftly. Their guns flicked up, ready to fire, only to find Kevin on the ground, sweeping something up.

"Sorry, I, uh, broke it," Kevin mumbled shyly.

"Damnit Kevin," Dean huffed as he put his gun down, "We thought Crowley had you or something."

"Oh, no. That son of a bitch," Dean rose his eyebrows at Kevin's use of the phrase, "is still tied down behind that."

"Good," Sam smiled as he put his gun away. Seriously, when did he ever smile?

They opened up to see Crowley, hunched over, defeated, in the car. He sported the chains quite nicely. He looked up slowly, disgust plastered on his face.

"Hi Crowley. Hope you feel at home," Dean chirped, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, yes, it's just peachy," Crowley groaned.

"Good, because I think," Dean leaned down, "we will keep you here for a while."

"You're not going to get anything out of me you self-loathing, worthless, waste of space," Crowley hissed.

"Bite me," Dean growled.

"Careful! He might actually do..." Sam stopped as Dean looked at him with condescending eyes.

"You should listen to your moose. Much like my hounds, my bite is worse than my bark."

"You keep telling yourself that Fido," Dean laughed, pacing in a circle around the chair Crowley was confined to, "because, as I see it, we have the upperhand in this little showdown," he leaned in again, "and you're somewhat muzzled right now."

Crowley rolled his eyes as Dean pulled away. Dean strode out of the confinement and slammed the door loudly behind him. His smirk vanished, and he was back to looking extremely solemn and worn out.

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving and we don't have anything here to eat," Dean grumbled.

"Seriously, you want to go out to eat?" Kevin chirped from behind them.

"Yes," Dean turned around, looking stern, "I'd like to go sit down at some cheap diner and eat something that's gonna kill me. Is it so bad to want to something semi-normal after everything we just dealt with?"

"Well no."

"Good," Dean hissed, throwing open the door that led out of the bunker. The Impala was still there, thank God, well maybe not God. He didn't really deserve any thanking at the moment. Kevin and Sam followed quietly behind him, hopping into the car warily. Dean simply slid in and started the engine, which sounded much healthier than it was last night. They sped down the desolate road out towards the town. Everyone was acting so normal, as if nothing had even happened last night. The mutterings of a few sightings of 'meteor' shower could be found here and there, but the majority of people were completely oblivious. Ignorance is bliss, Sam guessed. The boys found themselves on the opposite side of town, near a diner that sat just before the tree line began. Dean pulled in, parking farther out than necessary. Just as he stepped out of the Impala he looked to the trees and froze. His hand held tightly to the door. It took a minute before Sam and Kevin noticed and turned to look where Dean was staring. They froze as well.

"Dean!" Cas cried out from the road. This snapped Dean out of his temporary paralysis.

"Cas!" Dean yelled back, running towards him, nearly getting hit by oncoming traffic. The cars honked and swerved, but Dean didn't care. Cas ran up to him, coughing and wheezing, but still took Dean tightly into a hug. Dean hugged back, sighing in relief. Cas was alive. He also smelled terrible. Dean pulled away, coughing.

"Cas, you're not dead?"

"No," Cas looked down at his body, " I suppose not."

"You had me worried."

"I'm sorry Dean, I," Cas looked flustered, "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Cas, just shut up for a minute," Dean cut him off, "You're probably starving."

"That properly described how I feel, I believe so anyway. Hello, Sam. Kevin," Cas nodded to them.

"It's good to see you man," Sam took Cas into a quick hug.

"Yeah, we all thought you were dead or something," Kevin added.

"I'm assuming you didn't close off Hell," Cas looked to Sam.

"Uh, no," Sam looked down, "How'd you know?"

"You're not dead,' Cas said flatly, "You're very healthy as well. Which is," he paused, "unexpected."

"Some weird crap happened last night. We blacked out, then Sam woke up healthy," Dean informed.

"Oh," was all Cas said.

They walked awkwardly into the dinner, taking one of the booths by the window. It was obvious that this wasn't totally normal for Dean, because his eyes were constantly searching the diner for any problems or pissed of ex-angels.

"So Cas," Sam began, "how did you exactly know where to find us?"

"I didn't. I merely wandered till I heard cars," Cas muttered.

"How did it feel to fall?" Kevin leaned forward, but Sam smacked him. Who asked that kind of question?

"I didn't fall."

"Wait, so do you still have your angel powers?" Dean tuned in.

"Well no. Metatron took my grace. His trials weren't really trials," Cas shifted in his seat, "They were ingredients to cast the angels out of heaven."

"We figured that much out, but why you?"

"I'm not sure. Probably just sacrificial. The one who gathers the ingredients has to give up their grace for it to work, I assume."

"Oh," Dean muttered and returned to his scanning. They ate in silence, the only sounds of them chewing or swallowing. Cas admitted to feeling better after he finished eating. It would take him a while to adjust to his new human needs. In the midst of Dean's scanning he glimpsed out the window to see a cherry red 69' Camaro pull up beside his car. Dean let out a low whistle, and the boys followed his gaze. Dean's eyebrows popped up when a woman got out of the driver's side. She closed her door with a loud bang and walked closer to the Impala.

"Let's get out of here," Dean mumbled, throwing down a few bills. The boys filed out of the diner and walked quickly to the car.

"Can I help you?" Dean hollered to the woman, who was now pacing around his car, inspecting it.

"Not really," she smiled. Her voice was light as she spoke, "Just admiring the car. Is it yours?"

"Yeah," Dean walked up to her.

"I just saw her from the road and had to get a closer look. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you nervous by being around your baby. I'm Erin, by the way," she stuck out her hand. Dean shook it.

"Dean."

"Nice to meet you. And you guys are?" she stepped past Dean.

"Sam," Sam shook her hand.

"Kevin," he nodded.

"Castiel," Cas just stared.

"Awesome," Erin smiled, stepping back over to the Impala, "67' Impala? Good taste."

"It was my father's," Dean chimed in. That was the first time he'd mentioned his father in a while.

"Mine was my brother's," she looked inside the car.

"Not bad," Dean laughed. The other boys simply stared at them both. Dean just stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. She looked up at him.

"Can I help you?" She smirked.

"No, sorry, just, mind if I look at yours?"

"Sure go ahead."

Dean walked over, inspecting everything, calling out random questions about what was original and what was replaced. He wandered to the trunk of the car and lifted it up quietly, but he wasn't expecting what he saw. His eyes went wide and slammed the trunk shut, pulling out his gun and aiming it at the girl. She turned around quickly, with her own gun aimed at Dean.

"Who are you?" Dean yelled.

"Calm down!" She kept her gun pointed stiffly at him.

"Not until you tell me who you are," he yelled again, pushing her against the car.

"Erin Harlan. Why you pulling a gun out on me?" She laughed. Oh, the irony.

"No, I mean who are you?"

"A hunter asshole," she growled as Dean stepped away, putting his gun down.

"That explains your trunk."

"Touchy much?" She rolled her eyes, "How did you not guess who I was? I mean, we're kinda the only one's who always wear plaid, leather, and drive classic muscle cars for the hell of it."

She was decked out in a thick, brown leather jacket, boots, plaid, and jeans. She fit the part.

"Okay fine, but what are you doing here?" Dean asked as he relaxed partially.

"I go where the actions at, and you boys, are action-packed," she smirked.

"How do you know us?" Sam joined in.

"You don't think I wouldn't have heard through the hunter web about the mighty Winchesters, their prophet, and their trusty angel of the lord?" She laughed, and Cas cleared his throat.

"Well," Dean started, "I hate to tell you this, but you probably don't want to be around us. We're in some deep crap right now."

"Sure, you must be their feathery friend," she looked at Cas with a warm smile.

"Well, I," Cas began.

"He's not an angel anymore. As of last night. I don't know if you got the memo, but all that fire in the sky was falling angels," Dean hissed.

"Damn, you're in deep," she relaxed again.

"You think?"

"Any leads?"

"You can't be serious. You're insane if you stick around," Sam growled.

"I agree," Kevin added, while Cas just stood silently.

"Well," she stood up, rubbing her hands on her jeans, "that's what makes the job fun."

She walked over to her car and popped open the trunk. She grabbed an old dusty box and tossed it at Sam. He opened it warily to find a old, leather book. He opened to find Greek text about government. She leaned into her car, her feet lifting off the ground, because she was probably only 5'3. She pulled a bottle of scotch out and handed it to Dean. She threw a small notebook full of random sketches to Kevin. Lastly, she tossed a glowing, glass ball to Cas.

"What the hell is this?" Dean gestured to the items.

"Gifts. Figure I start off on the right note," she shrugged.

"Uh thanks," Sam muttered, but it sounded more like a question.

"Figured you dig that Greek government crap. You can never go wrong with scotch. That notebook is full of some random demon trap crap."

"Thanks," Kevin muttered.

"Trust me now?"

"Not really," Dean stood up, setting the scotch in his car.

"Well you should. I was a friend of Jo's."

Dean went rigid. Who the hell was this chick? She showed up out of nowhere bearing gifts and suddenly wanted to be trusted.

"What can you possibly do for us?" Sam asked.

"Help, research, hunt, fight, provide a female touch to your everyday, macho lives," Erin snickered.

"Fine, well then get in your car and we'll take you to the bunker."

"Sounds like a plan. Lead the way buddy boy."

Dean let out a huff and walked over to his car. Sam and Kevin got in shortly after him, but Cas walked up to Erin slowly. She glanced up from in the car.

"Can I help you?" She smiled sweetly.

"I, uh," Cas played with the object in his hands, "was wondering what this is exactly?"

"Frankly, I don't know. Found it a while back and thought it was pretty. Heard the hype about this mysterious, pretty, blue-eyed, doll of an angel from some hunters, and figured it would match your eyes. Which it does. Damn I'm good," she laughed to herself. Cas felt a weird heat spread over his cheeks. What was that?

"Cas!" Dean yelled from the car.

"Yes?" Cas spun around.

"You getting in or what?"

"Right," Cas mumbled and slid into the car. Dean turned on his engine and glanced at Erin, who smiled and turned her engine on as well, and laughed. It was much louder. Dean and Erin pulled out of the parking lot and sped off to the bunker. This was going to come back to bite Dean in the ass, and he knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

The boys sat around the large, wooden tables in the library. It had a comforting, musty smell to it. A smell that the boys had associated with home. It sure beat the smell of the hundreds of motels they had stayed at over the past eight years. It was always just some odd smell that made your stomach twist into knots, because you never wanted to know what exactly happened in the rooms. Sure, the boys did their fair share of unusual activities in the rooms, demon summoning, gun fights, fist fights, but some people were into some weird stuff.

Erin wandered aimlessly through the bunker, admiring how nice it seemed. If the boys didn't kill her in the next 24 hours, then she would love to stay here. She'd been sleeping in her car for the past month, and a bed sounded wonderful. She finally walked into the library and was met with cold stares. Their looks followed her as she awkwardly walked to the end of the table and took a seat. She swallowed quickly and returned the gaze. The silence was deafening.

"So, Erin," Dean cleared his throat, "how did you know Jo?"

"She, uh," Erin glancing quickly at Sam, "worked with me for a few hunts when she was hunting solo." Sam had his hand ready to grab the gun, clearly still not trusting her.

"What were you hunting?" Sam asked.

"A few restless spirits in Montana. Nothing really major," she shifted in her seat.

"What's her mother's name?" Dean leaned back in his seat.

"Helen."

"Last name?"

"Harvelle. Satisfied?" she sat up straighter, "If so, I'd appreciate it if Sam put the gun away."

"Fine," Sam huffed and put it back.

"Well then," she smiled, "Now that we have all the formalities out of the way, what can I do for you?"

"Well, Cas here can tell you what we know," Dean relaxed.

"I'm all ears," Erin laughed and turned to face Castiel.

Cas told Erin everything he knew about Metatron, the angels, the wars, the gates of Hell, with Dean and Sam interjecting occasionally to add more information. Erin just nodded her head calmly, and no one quite understood why. Cas then began to tell her about Crowley, and Erin perked up. Interest danced across her eyes. Cas tilted his head at that.

"So you're telling me the King of Hell is in your dungeon?" She grinned.

"Pretty much," Kevin laughed.

"Awesome," she grinned wider. Dean simply shook his head and awe. Who was this girl?

"I guess," Sam shrugged.

"So want to back out?" Dean leaned forward.

"Not really," Erin shrugged and stood up. She wandered over to the books, touching the spines of a few. The boys just stared at her, though Cas still had his head tilted. Just because he was human didn't mean he could understand social cues. Dean told him that he'd eventually get the hang out of it, but Dean and Cas both knew that was total bull crap.

"So, Erin, what are you planning on doing here?" Dean stood up slowly. He leaned on the bookshelf.

"Well," she looked up, letting a small smile play on her lips. She leaned in closer. Cas and Sam both cleared their throats. "I was planning on fixing this damn rattling noise in my engine."

"I can help," he leaned in more.

"Too bad I don't need it," she scoffed and walked away. She had seen the garage bay in her wandering. Hopefully the tools were there. She walked out silently, feeling rather smug. Dean just stood there, eyes wide.

"Guess you don't have it anymore," Sam laughed.

"Yeah, shut up," Dean coughed nervously, "I still have it."

"Sure."

"Sam?" Cas asked as Dean left the room.

"Yea Cas?" Sam looked up.

"Why did Erin just turn Dean down?"

"Probably because she's smart."

Cas nodded in agreement.

The sun hung low on the horizon, and everything had a gold tint to it. Erin was hunched over a toolbox, trying to find a simple tool. Did these boys not believe in a stock to repair cars? She rolled her eyes and sat down on the bench, just staring off into the distance. She chose to leave the door open, mostly because it was hot as Hell in here. She scanned the bay, inspecting the various propaganda that hung on the walls. Vintage posters, that probably weren't so vintage when they were hung up. They curled over time and yellowed slightly. The garage had a bitter scent that made her nose curl up a bit. It was like a bad cologne. She had smelled her fair share of bad colognes, because her brother didn't really know what was a decent smell and what made a girl want to run as far away from his as possible.

The sound of shuffling footsteps snapped Erin out of her trance, and she stood up to see who it was. Dean was probably coming to tease her and see how badly she had messed up her car. She could fix a damn rattling engine, but he didn't want to acknowledge that.

"You come to make an ass of yourself?" she laughed, walking over to the engine, "Because I'm almost done fixing this damn rattling noise."

"Uh, no," a different voice replied. It was Cas.

"Oh sorry!" she turned around, red in the face, "I thought you were Dean."

"Would you like me to get him?" Cas stopped walking.

"Uh, no. I just needed to find a tool I needed."

"Dean told me to bring this to you," he held out the tool she was looking for. She jumped over and grabbed it from his hand.

"Thanks," she smiled before walking back to her car. Cas just stood there. Unsure what to do next.

"You're welcome," he muttered.

"You gonna just stand there, or do wanna pull up a seat for the show," she turned around, wiggling her hips slightly as a joke. How could someone be so cheerful as a hunter?

Cas walked quietly over to the bench, sitting down and just looking at the ground. He held his hands together, twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly.

"You don't talk much do you?" Erin peered over her shoulder.

"I would speak if I had anything to say," Cas deadpanned.

"Think of something," she laughed.

"Are you enjoying it here at bunker?" Cas threw out. He honestly had no idea what he was doing.

"Oh yeah. It's great. Much better than the cruddy motels I'm used to."

"That's good," Cas dropped his head again.

"Yea," Erin dragged out. A thought crossed her mind. This silence was awfully boring, so she walked around to her car door. She crawled inside, which caused Cas to look up in confusion. She crawled back out with a stereo in one hand and an iPod in the other. She set it down on the toolbox and plugged her iPod in. "You listen to anything in particular?"

"No. I never had time to," Cas paused, "acquire a specific music taste."

"That's what I wanted to hear," she smiled and turned some screechy, electronic music on. Cas just looked at her with wide eyes. That wasn't the kind of music he was expecting. She seemed like she'd like Dean's music.

She wiggled her way back to the engine and picked up her tools. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the back of the engine. When she was younger, Erin thought her height was a disadvantage, but that changed when she started hunting. Most underestimated her, but were shocked when she whooped their ass. She figured her shortness was just a cover up for the kickass girl underneath.

"This music," Cas spoke loudly, so that Erin could hear him over the music, "is different."

"Yeah?" She replied.

"I like it," Cas smiled, barely. Erin turned around to see the last of the smile before his face was blank again. She wiped her hands on her shirt and closed the hood.

"Let's see if this works," she bent down to pick the other tools on the ground. Cas watched her, and didn't realize where he was staring until a husky voice whispered in his ear.

"You know, if you're gonna stare at her ass, at least be subtle about it," Dean laughed.

"I wasn't," Cas began.

"Sure," Dean pat him on the shoulder, "Got her all fixed?" Dean addressed Erin.

"Just about to see if she rattled anymore," she smiled and reached in the car from the window. She turned the key and the Camaro roared to life, with no rattling. She smiled to herself and turned the engine off.

"Sounds good," Dean commented.

"I'll tell you what sounds good, a beer," she replied, sitting on the hood of the car.

"Will do," Dean smirked and walked out. What was with all the smiling?

Another upbeat song came on, with a lot of whistling. Erin whistled along, eyes catching with Cas's. He was just staring at her. She didn't know whether to be creeped out or flattered. She didn't have time to ask, because Dean was out again with three beers. She nodded and took hers, popping the top off quickly. The three sat there for a moment, silently sipping on their beers.

"You like this crap?" Dean scoffed, jerking his head to the stereo.

"You don't like it leave, then leave," she started to move her head to the music.

"I would, but I figured you'd want in a hunt we're doing tonight."

"What we hunting?"

"Couple of demons an hour out of town. They've been making a mess of things. Don't think they got the memo that we have bigger fish to fry right now."

"Who's all going?" she took another sip of her beer.

"Sam and I, and you if you want to."

"No Cas?" she raised an eyebrow, while Cas kept his eyes on the ground.

"We didn't know if he was up to it," Dean stated.

"He's a big boy. He can handle it," Erin laughed.

"I'm willing to hunt if you allow me to," Cas looked up at Dean.

"Fine, but you're responsible for his ass Erin," Dean rolled his eyes and walked out.

"Thank you," Cas muttered, standing up.

"Anytime,"she stood up as well. Stretching her arms. Her shirt rode up a bit, and Cas stared, again.

Dean returned with Sammy, who was looking even better than he did this morning. He was energetic and awake. You wouldn't have known that he almost had died a few nights ago. They walked over to the Impala and hopped in. The engine roaring to life. Erin slid into her car, and looked expectantly at Cas through the windshield.

"Pick a car or stay home, buddy," she hollered, turning on her car. Cas walked to the passenger seat of her car and opened up the door slowly. He slid in awkwardly. Dean pulled his car out, and Erin followed after him. Closing the door to the garage bay behind them. The rode in silence, until Erin finally turned on the radio. This guy was awkward.

"So," she drawled, "how's being human?"

"Strange," he said quietly, "I'm not really used to it."

"Do you like it? I mean I'm sure it's not as great as being an angel or whatever, but yeah," she muttered awkwardly.

"It's not bad," Cas smiled, looking at her, "it has its perks."

"That's good," she looked at him, caught off guard by his smile, "Since when do you smile?"

"Not often," Cas sighed.

"You should change that," she looked back to the road, "Just because our lives suck ass, doesn't mean we can't smile while we go through Hell."

Erin shut off the radio as the pulled up to the warehouse. What was up with these things? Demon hangout number one. The hopped out of their cars quickly, guns in hand. Cas just stood there dumbly.

"Oh right," Dean muttered, tossing Cas a gun. He loaded it quickly. They snuck up to the doors. Sam swiftly kicked it in and they rushed in, guns aimed. They spread out in various directions, Cas was a few steps behind everyone else. Dean rolled his eyes and continued what he was doing. Erin slowly slid to a slightly opened door. She burst in, but dropped her gun to her side instantly.

"Crap!" She yelled. The other ran to her.

"What?" Sam grunted.

"Look," she motioned to the pile of bodies in the middle of the floor.

"Those were are demons."

"Looks like someone beat us to it."

"Well, awesome. Less work for us," Dean flicked out his lighter and tossed it onto the bodies.

"Shame really. I was looking forward to ganking some demons," Erin sighed. The boys looked at her like she was insane, "Now what?" She began to walk out.

"We go home," Sam shrugged.

"There's no place like home, huh?" She muttered. She thought she was hilarious. They were in Kansas after all.

"Guess so, What's you're bright idea Ms. Comedy?" Dean sneered.

"Get wasted? Yea that sounds fun."

"We've got alcohol back at the bunker."

"Fine, kill joy." She rolled her eyes. They walked back to their cars quickly. Dean and Sam sped off in the Impala, but Erin just stared out the window. Cas cleared his throat loudly to break the silence.

"Sorry," she squeaked, shaking her head.

"You ok?" Cas tried to show concern.

"Yeah, just," she paused, "nevermind." With that she sped after the boys. It seemed to take longer to get home. When they finally pulled into up to the bunker, Erin didn't even pull into the garage bay. Cas got out awkwardly, walking away, but looked back. Erin shut off the car, and got out. Instead of walking inside she just climbed up to the roof of the Camaro.

Inside the bunker Dean grabbed a few beers, and wandered to find Sam and Cas. Cas stumbled through the door and glanced up quickly at Dean, before shuffling on his way.

"Cas! Wait up!" Dean hollered. He trailed behind Cas.

"Erin is outside," cas muttered, "I don't know why."

"Thanks," Dean patted him on the back and handed Cas a beer. He turned back and wandered outside. Erin was just perched on top of her car, staring out at nothing. This girl must be bipolar. Dean shuffled out of the garage bay onto to the gravel. It crunched loudly underneath him, and then Erin didn't look so peaceful. She jumped off the car, and crouched low to ground. Dean raised an eyebrow. That was not a hunter crouch. Not that there was really a guide book to proper hunting technique. If there was one, then it would have said: Don't get your ass killed.

Erin was low to the ground, legs spread wide as if she was going to drop down into a split at any moment. Dean heard the subtle click of a gun and he figured he should say something before he got killed. Erin rolled out on the ground from behind her car. Gun aimed rigidly, but it dropped when she recognized Dean in the dark.

"I come in peace," he muttered, walking closer with a beer extended out. She took it quietly.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" She tilted her head, which only reminded Dean of Cas.

"That whole pounce thing," Dean gestured at the car.

"Oh that," she said flatly.

"Yeah that. It was pretty intense."

"Just a gut reaction," she shrugged.

"Well, it looked uncomfortable," Dean laughed, shifting his weight back and forth.

"It's not bad. I'm pretty flexible," she winked. Dean took in a sharp breath.

"Why do you do it that way?"

"Trained that way."

"Who the hell teaches someone to hunt like that?"

"Some idiot that I stuck around with for a while. He was a dick."

"But you still do it?"

"Just because he was sick, perverted teacher didn't mean I couldn't kick ass."

"Fair enough," Dean held up his hands in surrender.

"It's actually quite fun, honestly," Erin giggled.

"How so?"

"People underestimate me because I hunt in a feminine way or whatever. Sucks for them when they find out what I can do."

"It's definitely distracting and surprising."

"That's the intention."

"When did you become a hunter?"

"Sixteen."  
"Wow. Well good for you," Dean cleared his throat. Erin leaned up against her car. "If you wanted to," Dean's eyes ran over her body, "get out of here for a while, I could..."

"No. No. No. I'm not into to office romances, and when I say romances, I mean one night stands."

"Oh."

"It's nothing against you, just, you guys aren't my type."

"Wait what?" Dean spit out his beer. Erin pushed away from the car, taking a swig of her beer, before walking into the bunker.

"Make of that what you will," she smirked and disappeared inside.

Dean stared after her with raised eyebrows. That was a plot twist. Just when Dean thought he had her figured out, she went ahead a threw a curveball at him. He had just met her this morning, but he was more confused now than he was then. He took a long swig of his beer before following her into the bunker. It was extremely dark inside, except for a small lamp that Kevin was using. He was actually passed out on the table, but Dean didn't bother to wake him. He cleared out a room for the kid, and he never used it. He walked over quietly and flipped the light off. He fumbled his way to his room, but his hand froze on the door handle. A muffled moan rang through the bunker. Dean set his beer on the ground and tried to guess where the noise came from. Another moan. He walked towards the dungeon, and it gradually got louder. He opened it up to see Crowley with his head hanging down. He let out another moan.

"Crowley!" Dean whispered angrily, "Shut up!"

"I'm bored," Crowley threw his head back.

"Surprisingly, I don't pity you," Dean rolled his eyes, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"You do realize it's awfully plain to not have anyone to talk to."

"That was the point, jackass. Sort of like your own personal Hell."

"Clever, Dean. I'm sure your quick wit gets you everywhere in life."

"Sure helps," he began to turn away, but stopped in his tracks.

"They will come you know. They know that you tried to close them all in. They'll come and get me, and they'll end you," Crowley hissed.

"Okay princess, whatever you say," Dean growled and slammed to door shut. He knew that Crowley was telling the truth though. The demons and the angels both wanted to kill them. A twinge of guilt struck him, realizing that, by default, they would want to kill Erin to for helping them. Something told him that it wasn't right to keep Erin around. She should save herself.

Dean walked back to his room slowly. The day finally had caught up to him. He was somewhat foggy from the beer, but not drunk. His feet dragged and he rested a palm on his door. What was he doing? He was living a nightmare. Not some typical, average man's nightmare, but the nightmare of a hunter, which is so much worse. Dean rested his forehead on the door, letting out an audible sigh.

"Dean?" Sam groaned, his voice thick with sleep.

"Sammy, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Dean turned to face his brother. Bags were visible under his squinted eyes.

"Nah, it's good," Sam rubbed his eyes. "Was Crowley acting up?"

"Just being an ass. Groaning and complaining, as if I actually cared about his well-being."

"It's like we're watching over a kid," Sam chuckled quietly.

"I'll say."

"So, uh, how are you holding up?" Sam sunk down to the floor.

"What do you mean?" Dean sat down as well, resting his head on the wall behind him.

"Today has been pretty," sam searched for the word, "eventful."

"Fine, I guess," Dean shrugged. It was the most passive motion he could think of.

"See, Dean, you say you're fine, but it's always bull."

"I don't know Sammy. I'm thrilled Cas is fine, minus the whole human thing. Crowley is a pain in my ass. I'm worried that those demons already being dead isn't as positive as I wish it was, and yea."

"What about Erin?"

"I think I trust her. I mean she told me some stuff that I think was pretty earnest. I just don't understand her."

"Just because she turned you down?" Sam half-heartedly laughed.

"Not really. Just," Dean sighed, "How is it that she's so positive about it all?"

"She hasn't been through what we've been through."

"There's things she isn't telling us about her past. I think. She told me some pretty screwed up stuff, but she was casual about it, which makes zero sense to me."

"Like what?" Sam sat up a bit.

"She started hunting when she was sixteen. Didn't tell me why, but I assume it doesn't run in the family."

"And you know this how?"

"She told me a bit about her 'trainer' as she called him. Something doesn't seem right with how she talked about him. She told me he was an asshole."

"Why?"

"He taught her everything like it was some kind of," he stared at the ceiling, hoping the right word was up there, "show, I guess. She looks like some intense female spy or whatever. I walked out to give her a beer and she full on pounced on me like a cat. It doesn't seem like how female hunters act."

"Maybe she isn't like them."

"I know she isn't. I tried to make a move on her and she rejected me."

"Shocker there," Sam interrupted.

"Let me finish. She said it was nothing personal. It was us guys in general."

"So you think she swings for the other team?" Sam relaxed again.

"I don't really know. Don't want to assume, but I'd believe it."

"Huh," Sam huffed out. "Well, I guess it's not number one on our list of things to figure out."

"That list is a mile long."

"What do you think did this to me?" Sam motioned towards his body.

"I'm not sure, but we have to find it."

"We also have to kick Metatron's ass."

"And fight off furious demons and pissed off ex-angels."

"And figure out who or what killed those demons."

"Don't you miss it?" Dean sighed, his whole body moving with it.

"Miss what?"

"When it was just some tricky spirit that was our main problem. I know I sure do."

"Oh, believe me, I do. I just figure," Sam made eye contact with Sam, "if we weren't here to do this, then what other damned soul would?"

Dean stared at the floor, contemplating what Sam said. Sam disappeared into his room. He had a point. He wanted a normal life, but someone else would've been here, going through this same crap. According to the angels, Sam and him were basically doomed to deal with this crap before they were even born. That was utterly unfair, but they were stronger. Dean used to think that all of this happened for no reason, and that it was unfair. Bad things like this weren't supposed to happen to good people. It had taken him a while to see that was just some hollow statement people uttered to themselves to justify the world around them. In reality, bad things happened to everyone, but it was all in how you dealt with it, and Dean wasn't handling it well. It was a sickening weight he had to carry with him everywhere he went. It made his bones ache, his joints swell, his brain reel, his heart weak, and most of all, his torn, fragmented, fraying soul hollow with regret, self-loathing, and defeat that he was ready to cave into. Maybe it would be easier that way, to give in, to let everything fall away from him. Everything in his life was drifting apart, trying to take pieces of him with it, and he gripped the ropes tethered to the only things he had left to hold on to, but those ropes were growing thin, and his arms were growing tired, and like all things fragile, those ropes would break, taking the entirety of Dean's soul with them.


End file.
